Haunted by Angels and Demons
by fjun
Summary: Haunted by his unfortuned past, he ended up on Omega. Serving drinks in the Afterlife to any with enough credits, even to those loathing, savage apes. Yet nobody understands his reason for settling down in this criminal haven.


_Rated M for adult themes, references to violence, and heavy language._

_I do not own anything other than this story._

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**~*-. Haunted by Angels and Demons .-*~**

**Chapter I: _Savage_**

His workplace was a mess, as usual. How he hated those savage apes, seemed they really belief the galaxy lies at their foul feet. He hadn't thought it possible, but humans were able to piss him off every day anew. They always found some new kind of 'joke' to make his life more horrendous. Maybe it didn't help that he was a Batarian barkeeper on Omega. Fuck if he knew.

Nothing he could do, other than swallow those big lumps of burning hatred and shove them down his throat. Half-filled bottles were strewn around, decorating the bar's counter, many of them shattered. Alcoholic liquids slowly dried, forming blobs of sticky texture all over the counter. Some dripped down over the counter's edges, creating numerous, lively-colored waterfall appearances.

Rolakk knew he was being irrational, but he couldn't care less. He just had to hate humans, with their furry long body hair, their female's irritating high-pitched voices. Batarian females sound so much calmer, so much more collected than those beasts. Then they always seemed to carry a large bag of superiority with them, he often asked himself why they wouldn't just print 'I own the world' on those ugly clothes they're wearing. Would be more obvious, and then there would be no misunderstandings about what humans were. Spitting out the bile rising up his throat down on the floor, he hoped a tinge of animosity would follow with it. He had no such luck.

"Ey, fuckface. Some whiskey, now."

His four-eyed gaze snapping up he peered at the young human, watching two bright blue eyes staring back at him. The savage's attire consists of a black, hooded leather coat reaching his kneecaps, with red interior linings and a flag sewn on the left arm. A tight gray tanktop looked out underneath the mantle, clearly displaying the muscles beneath. An ornate amulet, encasing a shining red stone dangled around his neck. Maybe Rolakk could snatch it from the human; in his eyes the youth didn't deserve it anyway, way too beautiful for such a human simpleton. The red stone definitely looked valuable. A fist covered in a black fingerless glove, holding up the middle finger snatched him out of his analyzing.

"Hey, shithead," the young man said heatedly. "Where. Is. My. Motherfuckin'. Drink."

Rolakk's mind flashed back, to events that now seemed a lifetime ago. Events which forced him in the miserable situation he found himself in, serving drinks like a shitty slave, lending his service to everyone with enough money. Sounded like a fucking whore he concluded. All those years ago, his high and almighty sister tried to follow her mother's footsteps as a politician, back on Khar'shan. Their parent's high place in the caste system had entitled her to such lofty position. After their parents' death, his soulless bitch of a sibling had thought his excessive drinking and anti-Human attitude bad for her latest campaign. She cast him out of his own family making him a casteless bastard, no more worth than a slave. Before that could happen he fled, charted a flight, and landed here in the pisshole of the galaxy. Omega, he'd heard it meant 'the end' in some disgusting human tongue.

As his eyes cleared again he faced the business end of an ebony handgun, aiming between his eyes. Clouds of burning hatred shrouded his thoughts. He hated his sister for forcing him to rot here, like a decaying animal. He hated humans for making his shitty day-to-day life an endless hell.

Suddenly he realized what this meant, what this human could mean for him. A surge of relief filled him, blasting through the clouds like a raging hurricane, clearing his mind. Finally there was someone, who understood what this place meant to Rolakk. Finally someone who understood why of all the places he could have chosen, he settled for Omega.

Fitting, he thought to himself, and closed his eyes shortly before the trigger was pulled and the shredded contents of his head covered the bar behind him.

Omega, his end.

**q.Q.p**

As the young man calmly slid over the bar's counter, they kept staring at him, fucking squidheads. He knew not why they'd keep their attention on him, as if one dead alien would change anything. Besides, the fucker obviously didn't know how to serve a drink.

Thoughtfully looking through the bar's reserves, something caught his eye, he settled for a 12-year old Jameson whiskey. Shortly he asked himself just how such a drink would find its way into shitty Omega, but why should he care. Snatching a glass from behind the counter he filled a fingerbreadth of liquid into it, then set the flask back down on the bar's table.

Whilst picking up his newly filled drink a shot violently rang through the air, shattering his glass into thousand pieces, the shrapnel painfully cutting open his hand and lower arm. Instantly warm blood spilled forth and flowed down his arm. Closing his eyes he could feel his heart beginning to beat faster, his body anticipating what was to follow.

Slowly an unpleased sneer blossomed to life on his face, his eyes snapped open and flashed with deadly intent at the Turian aiming an assault rifle at him.

"Missed."

Inhumanly fast the adolescent whipped out both his ornate handguns, one ebony the other silver, from under his longcoat, and deftly sent two bullets through the Turians eyes, audibly cracking his faceplate. Taking one swift step forward he vaulted, slid over the counter and targeted the two armed Batarians standing behind the collapsing alien.

Expertly pulling both triggers in quick succession he peppered them both with bullets. The fired shots loudly echoed off the bar's smooth walls, alerting every occupant. Many of them sped towards the side entrances, bypassing the gunfight in front of the main door and charged out of the large room into the sewers below. Man, this bar really is a shithole. Whilst running at full speed towards his assailants he spotted many blue shapes rushing in the opposite direction, blue bitches, not even staying for the show, their loss.

Relishing in the displayed violence, and the amounts of adrenaline currently filling his bloodstream, the young human ignored the barrage of high-velocity bullets whizzing through the air. On every side, Humans, Turians, Asari, Krogan and a single Salarian sprang out of their chairs, armaments flashing out of concealed places they joined in the gunfight.

Dodging one bullet coming from his left, he arrived at the bloodied Turian's corpse descending towards the cold floor. The human savagely kicked him in the bulky chest and sent him flying. The dead body crashed into the two Batarian guards, gory vitals now flowing out of countless bullet holes, and sent them reeling. Coming down with a thunderous crash, all three of the dead aliens landed in a messy heap.

A vicious grin gracing the youth's shaven face, he caught the sound of a massive roar behind him. He fluidly spun on his heels and brought his ornate guns up as the hulky frame of an alien lizard charged at him. Ah, shit.

The Krogan mercenary crashed into him at full speed. He felt his ribs creaking in protest and the air getting pushed out of his lungs as his body sailed through the bar. Coming down hard on the metal floor, bright lights spotted his vision, dazing him. Blinking a few times, he shook his head, thus clearing his washy vision. Yanking his legs back, he tensed like a dart. The motion sent him somersaulting into the air and landing on his haunches.

"You are one fucking ugly lizard, aren't you," he sneered at the Krogan again coming for him. "Bet your mother hated your guts."

Whipping his guns up, zeroing in on the Krogan he dashed towards the stomping beast, peppering it with numerous shots, creating craters all over the alien's body. Orange blood started to lick out of the numerous flesh wounds, but the mercenary continued unfazed. Throwing his overheated shotgun into a Salarian's long face, standing in his path, the giant lizard shed off the last ounce of sense he possessed.

A few paces in front of the Krogan, the young man stopped, favoring his left leg and spun around. His right, booted foot connected with the mercenary's chest. Audibly bones and inner organs were smashed as the reptile darted backwards through the room. Under the beast's enormous weight an unlucky human, standing in its trajectory path, was reduced to a smear on the bar, both crashing and completely destroying the counter. None of them got up.

The deadly barfight had ceased. Torn bodies littered the cold ground, painting it in various colors. What a nasty party. The teenager idly strode towards the bar and picked up his whiskey bottle, claiming his prize and swallowed a huge gulp.

When numerous heavily armed guards quickly filed into the room, all aiming at him, he just sighed.

**q.Q.p**

How she loathed minor nuisances. They were the evil of every new day, such little things consuming so much time, time that could instead be spent on actual problems. But even as this notion crossed her mind, she pushed it away, rethinking her assessment.

The young outcast smugly standing before her, on the podium's lower level, could be reassessed as more than a minor nuisance. He waited patiently, unperturbed by the volley of her guards' guns aimed at him. He unwaveringly looked into her eyes, unblinking and never breaking contact. The kid seemingly didn't know what was good for him. Glaring at him in return, Aria just wanted to wipe the devilish smile off his handsome face, and then knock out those perfect, white flashing teeth peeking out under his full lips.

"You shot my barkeeper." His grin only widened.

Unperturbed the Asari underworld boss continued, "Killed three of my guards, and started a barfight."

If anything, Aria had not expected the adolescent's posture to beam with even more mischievousness. _Curious_. There were few, if any, Aria could remember who had such confidence in themselves and such utter disrespect for the forceful authority Omega's queen represented. Only one in this group of maniacs she could remember clearly. How she missed the old times, the brawls and skirmishes decades ago against the menacing Krogan warlord. Nowadays everything was dull and everyone subdued. No excitement to be found.

"Why?" She asked the imperative question.

"Ugly four-eyes wouldn't serve me a drink."

She'd heard that the kid had plundered the bar's contents, pouring himself a glass, some sort of human alcohol, whiskey if Aria remembered it correctly. Disgusting stuff, she had tried it once, whilst meeting a human client, out of curiosity. It had burned down her delicate throat before setting her stomach on fire. Never again, she swore to herself that day. Thinking of the memory she had to suppress the urge to wrinkle her nose.

Aria then nodded, as if it were common occurrence for barkeepers to be shot for not serving drinks. She couldn't care less for some simple Batarian. She didn't even know the barkeeper's name – no attention for him.

"My guards?"

"They started." He shrugged nonchalantly before a smugly glint flashed into his light eyes, "And missed."

"Leave us," the asari said in her imperous voice. "And clear the club."

Her guard's heads whipped around, staring at her as if she lost her mind.

"Something unclear about what I said?"

Hesitately they began to file out of the balcony, taking the steps down, and relaying her command to clear the club. Aria turned around, looking down to the Afterlife's lower level. Calmly she watched all the people obey her, filing out of the huge room. Some more willingly than others. When she spotted no more movement, Aria turned back, facing the cocky teenager.

"What's your name kid?"

"Dante." His mouth twisted into a devilish sneer. "But you can call me Dante the Demonkiller, has a nice ring to it, don't you think? And you definitely seem like the vicious demon type Violet."

Smirking back, Omega's queen hurled herself forward in a flash of streaking azure light, and collided with the young Nephilim.

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_The idea for this shortstory came to me while sitting outside on my balcony, working on another Mass Effect fic. I was currently thinking about a chapter on Omega when, out of nowhere this popped up in my head._

_Thank you for reading, hope you liked it. I definitely had fun writing it. It's not an everyday experience for me to write from the viewpoint of a batarian barkeeper._

_fjun_


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